The one time I forgot to check the weather forecast was the time Chicago experienced its 5th heaviest snow-dump of all time. OF ALL TIME. It began snowing at about 8pm on Saturday. I was in a dive bar in Ukrainian Village on a date of the romantic sort, and was informed by the establishment’s owner, as he showered us with free cheese puffs, that blizzard-warning nights are always the best nights. Indeed, the possibility that we might all be stuck in the bar until spring and the subsequent we’re-all-in-this-together community spirit creates a kind of unique buzz…. The kind of buzz that necessitates the making of now angels in the smoking area. My first ever snow angel, I might add.
Rising at 7am on Sunday in the apartment of my not-so-significant other, a peek out the window revealed at least six inches of white stuff on the ground and a blizzard of epic proportions that was showing no signs of stopping. I regretfully informed him that there would be no morning frivolity if I wanted to make it back home at all, and headed out, hungover and spectacularly underdressed, to face the elements. With visibility at less than 20 feet, street signs that were completely obscured and a blanket of snow covering every distinguishing feature that could potentially aid navigation, finding my home was going to be a challenge. Add to the mix the fact that I was wearing ankle-length, non-waterproof boots that the snow out-measured by a good couple of inches and the extra exertion required to high-knee every single step, the possibility that I might die of exposure and not be discovered until April was starting to look like a reasonable scenario.
However, you can start calling me Shackleton because I did, in fact, eventually make it with enough time left in the day for a hot shower and a few hours of beauty sleep before the afternoon’s Super Bowl party. Thankfully it is occurring in the downstairs apartment as there’s no way I’m going outside again!
I rose feeling surprisingly fresh as guests began to arrive at our apartment for some pre-party shenanigans. As the alcohol began to flow, I set myself a “no gin until 4” rule and began making my contribution to the pot-luck; the British party favourites that are Devils on Horseback. I’ll cook them just before the game starts.
The snow was still coming down hard, and from the third floor we had excellent seats for the “suckers trying to drive in the snow” show. Being the upstanding citizens that we are, pushing out stuck cars was the inevitable result of this, before some bright soul came up with the sensible conclusion that “if you’re not watching, you don’t have to help” and that was that. We found a better use for the window anyway…
The Big Game began at 5:30, and our party headed downstairs to where it was all happening. Loyalties to either team were pretty weak, although the majority, including myself, were supporting the Seahawks. There were a couple of people who had chosen, – for whatever reason – to support the Patriots, which, if nothing else, made for a pleasant mock-rivalrous party atmosphere. We were ready to go.
Got my green on! GO SEAHAWKS!!
The game, as far as football games go, was a pretty good one, with an incredibly stupid decision by the Seahawks securing victory for the Patriots. WHY DID YOU THROW IT?! The party, on the other hand, was just getting started. The whole Castle (see previous post) was there, getting their frivolity on, my devils on horseback went down a treat, there was great chicken wings, awesome guac, enough pizza to feed half of Italy and obscene amounts of beer, wine and liquor!
So. Much. Cheese
It was also still snowing, and people (who had been continuing to arrive throughout the game) were beginning to doubt that they would even be able to get to their cars, let alone drive themselves home *cue the end-of-the-world buzz mentioned in paragraph 1*. To top the night off, I myself got an email from my supervisor telling me not to bother trying to come in tomorrow, and just to work from home. Work from home? I think I can do that with a slight hangover. Where’s my Gin?
At some point in the night we ended up upstairs in our apartment with all the lights off using a police issue torch (flashlight) to illuminate the disco-ball hanging from the ceiling fan, listening to ABBA songs… and then we spent the time between 2 and 3am digging the cars of our guests (and random neighborhood strangers) out of the 13 inches of snow that had accumulated in total.
It continued to snow all night, and by the time I had woken up for my 8:30am conference call, the news was saying 18.5 inches had fallen in total. For someone who loves snow almost as much as she loves parties, it was a pretty blooming excellent weekend indeed. In fact, there wasn’t a box that wasn’t checked. 😉
01/02/15: #Sex, #Snow, #Superbowl.
God, I love Chicago.